"This is 'im," said Corlett, pointing. And the whole crowd roared.
"'E's no more like old beast Brogger than I'm like the mate," said Pizzey contemptuously. For Plump was a nice-looking man, and Pizzey had a face like a bruised apple. "Where's your beard, Brogger?"
"It's—it's shaved," said Brogger.
"And where did you get them brown 'ands and that ma'og'ny face? Brogger was as white as muck," said Bush. "And, besides, 'e's dead, and there's no more in it than that."
"I'm goin' aft," said Brogger. "There's a dreadful mistake somewhere."
But Corlett caught him by the tail of his jacket and sat him down on a chest suddenly.
"Less talk and more work, shipmate. Eat your breakfast."
He helped the poor devil to a pannikin of tea and to a tin plate full of bad bacon.
"This tea's beastly," he declared.
"Brogger's notion of wot's fit for sailors," said Corlett. "Drink 'is 'ealth in it."